


Sun-Scorched Black

by sunbreaksdown



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunbreaksdown/pseuds/sunbreaksdown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose and Porrim get a little too close for comfort, and Kanaya literally blows a fuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sun-Scorched Black

**Author's Note:**

> The best way to figure out new characters, clearly, is to write porn.

     Kanaya has seen countless horrors, both while awake and in her dreams. Her civilisation falls a thousand times, always through the eyes of someone different, and in the broken husks of bubbles that scrape along the bottom of the Furthest Ring, she watches her own death over and over, no bright light seeping from her skin to help reclaim her place among the living. She sees monsters, gargantuan beasts that slither and crawl from her memory and imagination alike, but nothing – _nothing_ – she happens across is quite so terrible as a gaudy red sweater encumbered with the thankless task of masking a hiked-up waistline. 

     The first glimpse of her ancestor brought about intimidation, trepidation, a lot of _dations_ that were none too productive and all equally paralysing, and had resulted in Kanaya placing herself neatly out of the way. And it wasn't simply Porrim's attitude and that fact that she proved any style could work on a Maryam, if properly implemented, so much as it was — alright, the problem revolved entirely around her personality and looks. Because what else was there? 

     Rose had told her to take deep breaths, though breathing wasn't as vital to her as it could've been, and not to worry so much. While Kanaya may have viewed Porrim as her ancestor, Porrim was, in fact, nothing more than an alternate version of her actual ancestor – who was nothing but a genetic duplicate of her to begin with, sent back through time on a meteor a few hundred sweeps before she was – from a prior universe, in which she took the role of descendant, and Kanaya would've been viewed as the ancestor. Rose had done her best to convince her that they were both in the same boat, but that conversation had given Kanaya a headache.

     As all conversations that revolved around Rose trying to explain troll biology and relations tend to.

     When she next drifts into a memory belonging to Porrim, Kanaya finds that she doesn't freeze up as she'd expected to. Rose floats in behind her, feet hovering above the ground for a few seconds longer than they need to, for dramatic effect, and says that she's there for moral support. Which is rather different to _moirail support_ , she adds with a bit of a grin, and Kanaya flashes her fangs Rose's way, before all but striding over to Porrim.

     At a guess, the bubble has taken the form of Porrim's hive back on Beforus, different to what Kanaya would've chosen, but far from uncomfortable. Porrim stands in the centre, still wearing that same dress from the last bubble – ghosts don't have much reason to change, it seems – eyes wide and white, flashing with interest at the intrusion. 

     Kanaya's certain she should say _Its An Honour To Meet You_ or _I Like Your Umm Everything_ , but the only thing she manages to blurt out is, “Are you honestly going to force that abomination onto another troll, without having first suffered a blow to the head?”

     She finds that her arms are folded across her chest, one foot tapping against the floor, in anticipation of an answer. She feels a scowl settle into her expression, and doesn't tack on _How Do You Live With Yourself_ for what she hopes are obvious reasons. 

     Porrim doesn't flinch, instead holding the sweater out before her. She has each shoulder pinched between a finger a thumb, and when she tugs on it, it doesn't even put up a pretence of maintaining its original shape. Kanaya can't in good conscience call it a sweater; it's a _square_ with two long, dangling bits on the side and a few inexplicable holes.

     To Kanaya's dismay, Porrim doesn't seem particularly ashamed of her creation. She folds it neatly over one arm, places it on her desk, and Kanaya's gaze quickly leaves the offending object, skimming across Porrim's fingers, twisting sharply at her elbow, up to her shoulder, collarbone exposed by the cut of her dress and—

     And then Rose's hands are on her shoulders, and Porrim says, “Sometimes fashion is about proving a point, and the only statement it needs to make is _don't have your pants pulled up so high._ ”

     Before Kanaya can conjure up a reply, because her tongue suddenly seems to have become as dense as lead and twice as heavy, now that what she's said is slowly dawning on her, Rose squeezes her shoulders and says, “Excuse her. She's more than a little nervous.” Kanaya closes her eyes, momentarily, and begins thanking whatever amicable deities dwell in the Furthest Ring, until Rose adds, “And I can hardly say that I blame her.”

     She looks back at Rose, and she's beaming. She looks to Porrim, and she's beaming. Kanaya, too, is beaming, though in a vastly different way, which she only becomes more aware of when she looks back to Porrim. Porrim with her skin as matte as any troll's should be, grey as grey can be, skin only marred by swirls of ink. She realises then how much she has to learn, and that it doesn't matter who's the ancestor or descendant here; she's still sweeps behind Porrim.

     There's a phantom sinking sensation where her gut used to be, and it becomes more evident than ever that she's the only one here with a misguided notion of proving her own worth. Porrim doesn't look at her for any longer than she needs to, and stares straight between her horns, attention fixed solely on Rose Lalonde.

     “An alien,” Porrim observes warmly, and Kanaya cringes, belatedly scolding herself for every bit of cross-cultural interest she's ever expressed. Hearing it from someone else's mouth, seeing fascination flare up in empty eyes, makes it seem nothing short of feral. “And here I was, entertaining the notion that you'd somehow be more hideous than us.”

     Torn between laughing and retrieving her lipstick, Kanaya looks to Rose, expecting to find her scandalised, because it took Kanaya _perigees_ to build herself to even attempting flirtation that painfully obvious, but there Rose is, doing a poor job of acting like she isn't grinning from ear to ear.

     “I'm always happy to help dispel any misinformed assumptions,” Rose says, bowing her head slightly, the very picture of generosity. Which only draws Porrim's attention to something.

     An overall _lack_ of something.

     “Well, there's the first obvious difference,” Porrim says, and only then does she look at Kanaya. She holds her gaze long enough to smirk, and then looks up to her horns, simultaneously reaching up to run her fingers over a matching pair. She does so almost as if it's an afterthought, as if she knows her horns are there but is only confirming it to sate a tactile desire for knowledge, but when she fixes her eyes back on Kanaya, well. Her own horns echo with something oddly reminiscent of the first time Rose wrapped her fingers around them. 

     “That and our skin pigmentation,” Rose says, and Kanaya can only _stare_ as the two of them slide into conversation so easily that Kanaya may as well not be in the block or bubble. Or, indeed, the entire universe. They speak of horns, at first, with Porrim explaining all of their biological and societal functions, things Kanaya has told Rose a dozen time over, though she still manages to appear as enlightened as she did the first time. 

     Rose assures Porrim that, no, she wasn't in some sort of horrible accident, she really isn't supposed to have horns, and Kanaya doesn't know what the hell she's doing. She doesn't know why Rose is talking away like that, because she _knows_ how difficult it's been for Kanaya to build herself up to being face to face with her ancestor, and it isn't fair that she should be conversing with Porrim when this is suppose to be about _her_.

     Kanaya tries to interject herself in the conversation. By that point, Porrim's found reason to get closer to Rose, in getting a proper look at her fascinatingly blunt human teeth, and Kanaya's points of _Uh_ and _Um_ somehow don't draw Porrim's attention back to her. 

     Perhaps, she thinks as the conversation comes back to a lack of horns, and Porrim reaches out to run her fingers through Rose's hair, just to make sure her skull really is entirely smooth, perhaps she should take hold of that hideous red sweater, and smother Porrim with it. 

     But smothering ghosts seems like the least effective course of action in this situation, and long before she's aware of what she's doing, Kanaya's swooped in between Porrim and Rose, as if Rose is in need of some sort of meat shield. She's got Porrim's wrists clutched between her hands, glow brighter than ever, and if she thought that Rose and Porrim were close before, she has real problems now.

     Because there she is, sandwiched between the two of them. Porrim before her, in her grasp, Rose leant against her back, already murmuring out apologies.

     “Is there—” Porrim begins, but Kanaya shakes her head, squeezing her wrists tighter as she cuts her off.

     “ _Don't_ ,” she says, and supposes that snapping at Porrim is a step up from not being able to say anything that gains her acknowledgement at all. “I would appreciate it if you would consider taking a step back from my girlfriend...”

     But no matter what she says, it's still difficult to look directly up at Porrim. Kanaya lowers her gaze, teeth grinding together, and tries, for a moment, to focus on her tattoos; but that doesn't do anything to help, with the way that they swirl and lead her gaze downwards. The heat in Porrim's hive must be turned all the way up, because there's no way that her glow can burn this much, even as Rose decides it's the opportune moment to plant a kiss against her nape, and murmurs, “I only wanted to ensure you had time to gather your thoughts, without being subjected to any awkward silences.”

     “That's—” Generous? Thoughtful? Absurd? The worst reasoning Kanaya's ever heard? She isn't sure, exactly, because then Porrim and Rose are exchanging not just looks, but capital-L _Looks_ , and all the gears in Kanaya's mind slowly begin to turn. Everything falls into place. Rose and Porrim must've spoken before. They must've planned this from the very beginning, and that's the only reason Kanaya is trapped between the two of them now.

     Kanaya screws her eyes shut, needing space she isn't going to get to think things through, and her frustration only causes her last coherent thoughts to shatter when Rose's arms slip around her waist, and she feels Porrim draw closer. Releasing her hold on Porrim's wrists turns out to be a terrible idea, because then there are hands on her shoulders, and it feels as if something in her mind _snaps_.

     And then Rose says, “Oh,” so softly, so surprised, that Kanaya finally finds a way to open her eyes back up. It's considerably dimmer, and it takes Kanaya a moment too long to realise that it's her fault; she glances down, and finds her skin as grey and dull as it was the day she first pupated.

     “Shit,” she says. 

     “I think you blew a fuse,” Rose adds helpfully, sounding far too amused for Kanaya's liking.

     Porrim doesn't give her the chance to shrug Rose off, to turn and narrow her gaze at her. She's finally, finally looking at Kanaya with something beyond indifference, one hand leaving her shoulder, coming up to tangle in her hair. Kanaya shudders and hates herself for it, because surely Rose can feel her do so, surely Rose is all too aware of how she's reacting.

     “You'll learn to control it, soon enough,” Porrim says, fingertips brushing across the shell of her ear. The thumb of her other hand idly draws crescents across the side of Kanaya's throat, and Kanaya tilts her head to the side, though not away from her touch.

     “What the fuck,” Kanaya says, somewhere between a grumble and a whine.

     “I think you should kiss her,” Rose whispers, like it's the next logical step, and as far as Kanaya can tell, it might as well be.

     She swallows the lump in her throat, and imagines that the whole hive is filled with the sound of an exaggerated _gulp_. That Porrim and Rose are both going to decide that she's too ridiculous, too hesitant, and cast her aside. And why wouldn't Rose, really? It probably wouldn't be right to blame her for trading Kanaya in for an upgrade, even if she does seem wholly occupied in sliding her hands under Kanaya's shirt, fingers running along the scar tissue underneath.

     It occurs to Kanaya very suddenly, as if she's reaching into the past for her realisation, that she _would_ like to kiss Porrim, no matter how inherently narcissistic that may be. There are enough differences between them for Kanaya to be able to rationalise the initial urge; Porrim's longer hair, the ink on her skin, her piercings; and perhaps indulging her curiosity is all she needs to overcome intimidation.

     Before Kanaya can commit herself to a kiss, Porrim has already leaned in towards her. It's nothing like she expected; she's only ever kissed Rose before, and the shape of Porrim's mouth is all at once strange, the pressure of her lips too much, as if Porrim is the alien, not Rose. The initial unfamiliarity fades away into enthralment quickly enough, because _different_ isn't synonymous with _bad_ , and Kanaya digs her fingers into Porrim's shoulders, kissing back in earnest. More enthusiastically than she otherwise would, and all because she is achingly aware that Rose is watching.

     Porrim's piercing brushes against her lower lip, and then her tongue, and Kanaya whimpers, certain that she should be more careful because of it; but Porrim makes no effort to go easy on her, to hold back. Rose's breath brushes across the back of her neck, her hands travel up, beneath her shirt, and it really isn't that great a surprise when Porrim begins to hitch her skirt up as if the fabric flutters up into her hand of its own accord. 

     “I'm not sure—” Kanaya breaks off the kiss to murmur, and Porrim's hand freezes halfway up her thigh. Kanaya blinks heavily, looks back to Rose, red-faced and a little out of breath, and then back to Porrim, who seems so fond and reassuring and predatory all at once, and shakes her head. “I'm not sure that this is really the best position in order to...”

     She doesn't need to finish that sentence. Porrim strides forward, one leg pressing between Kanaya's as Rose moves back, and Kanaya feels Rose hoist herself up onto the desk behind them. Kanaya half stands, half sits on the edge of the desk, Rose's thighs around her hips, and Porrim places one hand against the edge of the desk for balance, fingers quickly finding their way between her legs.

     The only reason Kanaya manages to hold herself together is because she knows just how much Rose is enjoying her role in this. Being the incredible girlfriend that she is, Kanaya splays a hand against one of Rose's thighs, scrapes her nails against the thin fabric of her godly tights, and lets her ancestor slide her fingers inside of her while she watches.

     Kanaya tenses, but only for as long as it takes her to realise that she can't buck herself up against Porrim's palm like that. If she thought she was intimidated by Porrim before, now she is absolutely _mortified_ , because she can't quite comprehend how she's supposed to live up to _this_ , in any conceivable way. 

     Rose, ever jumping to her rescue, leans forward enough to kiss her cheek, and then nods towards Porrim. “May I?” Rose asks, and Kanaya's first answer is a confused drawl of a jumbled word even she can't make out, because Porrim just had to chose that particular moment to flex her fingers deep inside of her. Kanaya tries again, manages a nod and a garbled _Yes_ , and Rose catches Porrim in a kiss before Kanaya has the chance to comprehend how utterly intolerable this is going to make things for her.

     Rose meets Porrim's mouth with an intrigued _ah_ , and begins her investigation by running her tongue across her lip ring, using the tip to brush it from side to side. Though Kanaya's eyes had been fluttering open and closed moments before, she finds that she can't close them now, no matter how she'd like to; Porrim and Rose kiss slowly but thoroughly as Porrim works against her, inside of her, while her glow begins to flicker on and off. It glows more when Porrim finds just the right angle, and then, eventually, fades out entirely.

     Kanaya's skin still simmers with warmth, forehead buried in Porrim's shoulder, the sounds of Porrim's mouth at Rose's throat shooting down her shattered spine. Rose makes the most subdued, perfect little gasps, almost more an absence of sound than anything else, and it is strange and wonderful to realise that she isn't the one doing that to Rose. Porrim runs her hands up, across her horns, which doesn't do anything to stop Kanaya from shivering; by the time she manages to sit back up, no longer needing Porrim's shoulder for support, Porrim has left Rose's throat well alone. Kanaya sees the traces of red blood lingering on her lips, but before she can comment on it, Porrim is running her fingers through her hair, nails lightly scratching across her scalp.

     “You know, I wouldn't look terrible with short hair,” she comments, and continues to brush it back into place.

     “Don't you find this at least a little bizarre?” Kanaya asks, not entirely sure that what she thinks happened really just did. 

     “No, not really,” Porrim says, shrugging. “I've been dead for a long time. There's not much that seems strange, anymore.”

     Despite all that she says, there's something about Porrim that tells Kanaya she wouldn't have considered this to be too out of the ordinary, even back before she died. And unlike Porrim, Kanaya can tell that Rose thinks this is strange, she absolutely does; which is why she goes along with it so eagerly. Kanaya can't wait to hear what Rose's ridiculous xenopsychology has to say about all of this. 

     “Do you feel better now?” Porrim asks, smiling, as if they've all sat down and had a heart to heart over piping hot tea in a particularly comfortable cushion pile. “I'm not going to subject you to _sermons_ , like Kanny does to his poor descendant, but I wouldn't want to give you the cold shoulder, either. Finding a middle-ground seems like the best thing for everyone. Don't you think so?”

     Kanaya places a hand to her forehead, trying to regain the balance she hasn't technically lost, and then places it down upon the desk. Her fingers brush across the crumpled heap of a sweater that's inches away from falling to the floor, and she frowns, suddenly clear-headed, as if she's been in control since the moment she stepped into the bubble.

     “I still think that this is atrocious,” she says, and Rose does her best not to laugh, arms wrapped tightly around her waist. “And that you have evidently been dead for too long to realise that there are certain lines you shouldn't cross.”

     Porrim grins, leaning forward to kiss her, lightly. “Is that so?” she asks, knocking the sweater off the desk, stepping on it as she sits on the edge of the desk, next to Kanaya. She gestures vaguely at it, and says, “There. I can admit when I'm wrong.”

     She leans back, palms flat on the desk behind her, dress riding up around her thighs, a strap falling off at one shoulder. Again, Kanaya would find herself frozen, but then Rose gives her a nudge that's none too subtle, and once she's on her feet, she decides that she doesn't like standing at all. Porrim is nothing short of happy to oblige her when Kanaya makes a move to straddle her lap, wraps her arms tightly around her waist, and pulls her closer, hips against hips.

     Kanaya bites on her lower lip, and with a quick glance at Rose and a nod in return, she runs her fingers through the length of Porrim's hair. “I believe I could pull off longer hair,” she says, kissing the line of Porrim's jaw, terrified in a way that makes her grow warm, that makes each of her movements more deft and deliberate than she could've imagined them being with anyone other than rose. “And perhaps tattoos, even.”

     Porrim rests her hands against the small of Kanaya's back, and lets out the slightest sigh as she lets Kanaya prove herself, lets Kanaya live up to her example.


End file.
